


Proximity

by Philemal



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Masturbation, Praise Kink, Yuri's actually a soft baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 22:13:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10671810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philemal/pseuds/Philemal
Summary: Otabek takes it away, to entwine both of their hands, to feel close in a way: beyond sex. “I don’t think I’ve told you how much I love you.” Yuri begins, comfortable with the chocolate eyes delving into his own, crawling inside and taking all of his secrets. “Sometimes I love you so much it hurts.”





	Proximity

Otabek came home late tonight. He finds Yura sleeping, shadowed by the moonlight seeping through white curtains. He decides not to bother him, but his eyes are soft as he gazes—eyeing all the angled curves and the way he breathes. There’s something incredibly soft in his heart, weak for porcelain skin and pink lips that grin and smirk. He runs a hand through chestnut hair, settles on a quick shower and brushing his teeth before slipping between silk sheets. The reaction is immediate, limbs wrap around his own, warmth of sleep tickles his eyes as Yura hums, almost akin to a purr. 

“You’re late.” His voice is hoarse, a bit sad. Otabek smiles, trailing his fingers up Yuri’s tone bicep, tasting the flesh that donned his neck. “Mm. I was dreaming.” 

“I’m sorry,” He begins, “What about?” Otabek whispers, his thumb strokes small circles into warm skin and muscle. 

“You.” He states, eyes blinking sleepily, blue-green eyes glowing like a cheshire cat. He was magnetic. Electric. His own center of gravity, pulling Otabek in and never letting go—nimble fingers with an iron grip around the muscle that beats in his chest. “We were doing domestic things. You know, cooking and shit,” He sighs, head sinking into the feather pillows. His voice is so soft. It makes Otabek tingly throughout. “You told me to do some situps after I ate a whole bag of Cheetos,” Otabek snorts, hand entwining with Yuri’s, pale and perfect, like lightning striking in the middle of a cornfield. “And I was thinking about marrying you.”

“I insult your eating habits and then you think about putting a ring on it?”

Yuri blinks at him, half-assed warning, thumb stroking patterns into the crease of Otabek’s hand. “Yes,” He says, licking his lips. “All I could think about was the way your stupid body would look in a tuxedo. Or the way your finger,” He wiggles his hand within Otabek’s for emphasis and smiles, “Would look with a gold band on it.” He begins tracing Otabek’s ring finger, tracing the creases and folds, and the gentle calloused part where his knuckle and ligament met. “I think you’d look good.” Otabek grins, pressing a kiss to Yuri’s lips, slow and gentle, tasting of mint.

“Really?” His voice is low now too, accent thicker than usual. “All I can imagine is taking the Tux off of you rather than imagining you in it.” Yuri laughs, quiet, chest rumbling with his breath as he places his lips against Otabek’s, slower than before, smacking against the wetness. 

“I think you need to make up for being late.” Yuri adds, whispered like a ghost on dusty pink flesh. His fingers tighten around Otabek’s hand again, careful of the sharp fingernails that threatened to press crescents into tan skin. Otabek licks his lips, playing with Yuri’s hand—making him grin and smile when he finally submits his strength and lets himself be pinned against the mattress. Brown bores into green, tasting evergreen and Russian winters, mingling with the frost in the air and feeling the leaves tickle his neck. 

“You’re like a breath of fresh air.” Otabek says, pressing kisses to his lips, to the corner of his mouth, to his cheeks and nose. Yura purrs and leans into the attention, smiling, sleepy and oddly sexy. “Even when you’re half asleep you don’t fail to make me feel like I’m falling for you harder and harder.” Yuri’s eyelashes move slowly, gracing high cheekbones, pupils dilated and glazed. Otabek had leaned back slightly to take it in. 

“You’re a sap.” He whispers, hot breath rolling against the stubble on Otabek’s chin. “I love you.” Yuri’s lips graze his cheek, scratchy and tickling the soft skin. His other hand was draped across his stomach, comfortably warming the spot. He nearly whines when Otabek takes it away, to entwine both of their hands, to feel close in a way: beyond sex. “I don’t think I’ve told you how much I love you.” Yuri begins, comfortable with the chocolate eyes delving into his own, crawling inside and taking all of his secrets. “Sometimes I love you so much it hurts.”

“No, don’t hurt.” Beka says, kissing Yuri’s cheek again, eliciting a half-hearted giggle. He plays with their hands more, splaying their fingers out and pressing them together, feeling the sheer softness of doll-like bones and skin. “Do you still want me to get you off?”

Yuri laughs, legs shaved and smooth, rubbing against Otabek’s pajama pants. He wasn’t wearing boxers. It was easy to wiggle down his pants dangerously low, showing off the happy trail of dark hair that disappeared into the toned v between his legs. “How romantic.” Yuri coos, feeling Otabek’s lips scatter soft, slow kisses down his neck. There’s heat in his belly now, swirling and licking at his nerves, making his cheeks and chest flush. “Yeah. Yes. Please.” He’s shirtless, so it’s rather easy for Otabek to slide his hands (now free from Yuri’s fingers) down the expanse of his chest, tone and slim, vibrating with life underneath skilled tips. Yuri bites his lip, hand curling into inky locks, looking straight into brown eyes. To see him look back. To feel him inside, not physically—but mentally, connected in a way they can’t explain. 

Otabek was in everything Yuri does. When he showers. Eats. Brushes his teeth, skates, dances, breathes, laughs, smiles. He was there. Thrumming in his veins, making his head swim with bliss, and making his knees flutter weakly. “Mm,” Yuri sighs, tan fingers slipping underneath the leopard print shorts that were too short to wear anywhere—but he does anyways, to make Otabek stare. His legs quake, fingers spreading and scratching Otabek’s scalp, making him hum and smile ever so slightly. “Your hair is fucking soft.” He states. That makes Otabek smile fully. 

“It’s not as soft as yours.” Otabek is sliding the item of clothing down Yuri’s endless legs, sculpted from marble and something criminal. Yuri licks his lips, adjusting himself and spreading his legs, completely unashamed as Otabek just looks. There’s something akin to a shuddering breath that parts his lips, hands flying to his slight waist, sculpting the lines and bones as if he were white clay. “You’re as beautiful as the day I met you, you know?”

Yuri laughs, knuckles resting on his forehead, other hand resting on his stomach again as he rolls his hips up into Otabek’s palms. “You’re a sap,” He says, again. “I love it.” He cocks an eyebrow when tan fingers trace the junction of his thigh, down the curves of his legs, stimulating the sensitive skin between his hips like an itch he can’t scratch. Yet he likes it. He loves when Otabek grows teasing, with his mouth all over Yuri’s skin, with his fingers buried inside him and tasting the spot that makes Yuri see clouds. He bites his lip, head shifting more into his hand as he gazes at Beka through blonde lashes. “And a tease.” He adds. 

Otabek grins, thumbs pressing and stroking the skin between his legs, dangerously close to the hardening arousal resting on his stomach. “And you want to marry me.”

Yuri rolls his eyes. “Maybe not anymore.” His lips are upwards though, smiling as Otabek prompts a finger on his cock. “Mm. Do you want me to do it?” A hint of annoyance in his voice. There’s a flash in his eyes, and Yuri’s heart leaps into his throat, feeling the aroused flush in his chest: tight and hot. 

“If you’d like.” Otabek grins, devilishly, and Yuri has to stifle the scoff. Instead, he tilts his head to the side as his knuckles leave his fore-head, traversing down his body instead. There’s this excitement bubbling in his stomach, feeling naughty—as if it were wrong. But oddly enough, he couldn’t think of anything more right. He wants Otabek to see him cum from his own hands. Otabek watches the limbs travel south, then back up, prickling goosebumps across his bare skin.

“Mm,” Yuri breathes, blonde brows pulling into a soft frown, oddly adorable. He touches his own hips, his nipples, rosy and jutting out into the cold air—his stomach, scratching up his own waist and parting his lips with the increasing of his breath. Otabek watches. Yuri likes when his waist is scratched, when his stomach is bitten, when his nipples are twisted and tugged on. He inhales sharply, growing more sensitive to the nails raking across his skin, and his cock is twitching to attention, leaking fluid and spreading across his abdomen sloppily. 

Otabek feels his own cock harden. “You’re gorgeous.”

Yura whimpers, one hand lingering on the inside of his thigh, stroking there until he can’t wait anymore, wrapping around his arousal patiently as he gazes upon Otabek’s face. “Don’t say that.” Otabek raises a brow, warm hands on red knees, wondering if he had discovered another one of Yuri’s perverse amusements. This one wasn’t as perverse as the spanking, nor the choking—in fact, this one is rather… soft. He likes praise. Otabek licks his lips, humming with excitement.

“You’re a good boy.”

Yuri whines, lips parting once more as he doesn’t dare to tear his eyes away. His face is the only thing that makes Yuri want to cum. His voice, his lips, his hands—his smile. “Stop,” he says, but it comes out as a mewl more than anything else. His hand works slowly, thumb pressing into the tip, teasing himself—imagining Otabek’s hand there instead. 

“You make me so hard.”

He chokes on a gasp, biting his lip hard enough to make it bleed, wrist working fervently now as arousal blooms in his stomach like a rose. He feels so taut, so strung up and pulled tight—like a rubber band, ready to snap. “I wanna see it.” Yuri says, eyes still locked on the warm brown prison that held him. “Let me see it. Let me see your cock.” Otabek struggles to bite back a groan as his hands leave Yura’s knees, fumbling with the waistband of his pants instead, pulling it down just enough for his half-hard arousal to peek and slip out. Yuri withdraws his hand, ankles locking behind Otabek’s back, pressing into his ass and pulling him closer. “Rub it against me.”

Otabek leans on his palms, placed on either side of Yuri’s head, powerful muscles flexing underneath his shoulderblades. Yuri’s hand slips down, eyes still locked on his, never breaking the spell—even as he begins to stroke Otabek to full hardness, feeling how it throbs and hums under his fingers. He was so fucking big, too. Yuri licks his lips, wanting to taste it, to feel it between his lips: but he’d save that for another time. Otabek’s panting, adjusting himself snugly between Yura’s hips, feeling how small he is underneath Otabek’s bulky frame. His free hand wraps around Otabek’s shoulder, slides down his back as he pulls him closer, and breathes heatedly onto his lips. “Move. Please.”

Otabek noticed now that Yuri had pressed their cocks together, gripping and stroking them both, wet lips parted in soft pants. Otabek rolls his hips forward, fore-head pressed against Yura’s, watching how his eyes nearly roll back, feeling how his hand tightens and matches the slow, gentle rhythm of his hips. Heat pours through his veins, white hot—looking straight into dilated pupils and forest blue eyes only fuels the flame, only urges his hips to snap forward, mouth parting. Yuri breathes into him, hard and laced with moans, with sex and heat. “Otabek.” He moans, wrist growing jerky as his orgasm approaches. “Oh, fuck, Otabek.”

Beka kisses him, swallowing the words and noise that threatened to spill past his lips, swallowing his frantic breath. He feels Yuri soar underneath him, fingers digging painfully into his shoulder, yet he doesn’t care. He groans, low and sexy, cumming with an equal amount of urgency as Yuri did, spilling across their chests and stomachs. Yuri’s whole body had tensed up, his mouth parted and locked in place, breath and thought failing him for a moment as bliss envelops him. His hips jolt, his toes curl into the sheets, his stomach and chest flips with excitement—

And Otabek had saw it all. He saw the way his eyes rolled back, the way his neck craned into the pillow, the way his chest and face broke out into a fervent sweat. It was that, that sent him over the edge. Watching Yura cum was a religious experience to Otabek. He cherishes every second, every little vein and muscle that protrudes in his face, the way his jaw struggles to form words—

And the delicious, long, moan that followed it all. It fills his ears, the room, and hell—Otabek’s entire world. It was the only thing he could hear as he comes down from his high, as Yuri struggles for breath. “Otabek,” He sighs, swallowing to wet his throat, licking his lips, hand sliding up to the back of Otabek’s neck. Otabek slumps completely, resting his fore-head in the crook of Yura’s neck, feeling how his heart pounded and how hot he had grown. “Mm… definitely getting married.”

Otabek laughs, resting his weight on his side, taking Yura’s hand from his neck and into his own. Yuri presses a loving kiss to Otabek’s temple, tasting the sweat that formed there. They wiped down with some tissues—and Otabek struggled not to get hard again when he saw Yuri licking cum from his fingers—but managed. His pants were discarded as well, as they held hands, not cuddling properly because they were already sweaty—but there was a gentleness to it. Something changed. 

It was only two weeks after that when Otabek proposed to Yura in a café.

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys ya'll should bother me on tumblr @philemal. please scream about otayuri with me


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